


Companion

by valderys



Category: Firefly, Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: kink_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valderys/pseuds/valderys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camelot is a small colony out on the Rim, and they don't get many luxuries, so when a Guild-trained Companion visits and Governor Pendragon buys their services for his son – well, Arthur is no position to refuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Companion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my 'roleplay/au (prostitution)' prompt for Kinkbingo 2009. This was inspired by Firefly, btw, rather than being a direct crossover! It's accompanied by fantastic [art](http://slanted-edges.livejournal.com/19317.html#cutid1) by Slantededges now too!

Arthur didn't slam the door but he only managed to prevent himself by the slimmest of margins. It wouldn't do, after all. Camelot might only be a backward Class III colony out on the Rim, but he was still Arthur Pendragon, only son of its Governor and occasional despot, as Arthur traitorously thought whenever his father had managed to put him in a towering temper. Such as now. Camelot might be small, but the Rim was a dangerous place – so he had to worry about pirates, and raiders, and rustlers, and all manner of likely chancers and thieves, all competing to be the ones that succeeded in taking away all that the colony had built. And that didn't even include the potential for a Reavers attack. He didn't have time for this.

He paused with his fingers still on the handle of the door, debating the merits of leaving, despite his father's orders. Just because this was the first time a Companion had ever visited Camelot, and just because his father had some outlandish notion that Arthur needed some civilising - as though he were some bumpkin with a straw hanging from his lip! - that didn't mean he wanted to be pimped out to some god's-damned jumped-up excuse of a gao yang!

He took a deep breath and let it out in a steady stream, forcing himself to calm down. It wasn't this girl's fault that Arthur had… difficulties with his father, and it really was an honour and a privilege for someone Guild-trained to travel out all this way. However much Arthur wished it was someone else enjoying said privilege.

Feeling calmer, he nodded once, and pushed forward. The Companion travelled in a small converted scout-ship. In the war it would have been for a two or three man crew, but as far as Arthur knew, the Companion travelled alone. That was quite strange, because Arthur rather thought they travelled in packs, or at least with an entourage, but then what did he really know about the quirks of Companions? All he knew was that this scout-ship barely resembled a real vessel, and that Arthur was pushing through curtains made of silks and satins, each with a different scent. If he stared carefully, he could see bulkheads beneath all the finery, but even then, it wasn't the standard grey, the walls seemed to be painted in a jewel-like topaz, bright and cheerful. It was a pleasant disguise, Arthur could grudgingly offer that.

The corridor finally opened out into what would be the main living quarters, a bowl shaped room that seemed filled with knick-knacks on every surface. Arthur's eye caught on priceless antiques, some even from Lost Earth, all mixed in with modern trinkets apparently made of gold and gems - an intricate clockwork mouse with diamonds for eyes, model salamanders climbing the walls – the wealth in this room alone could buy Camelot itself. Arthur made a mental note to post another guard. And yet, the riches were scattered, in a pretty, artful way, he supposed, not being an expert, but certainly not as though their owner cared that much about any of them. Unless that was another art. Arthur was quite prepared for _that_.

There was a rustle and Arthur's eye snapped back to the centre. What was he thinking, looking at gewgaws and expensive tat, when there was a person in the room? He shouldn't have been looking at anything before assessing the potential threat, his father could have had him flogged for inattention, and Arthur wouldn't even have argued.

There was a moment of utter stillness, as they stared at one another. Arthur was shocked into immobility, and the Companion was obviously moving carefully, in order not to startle Arthur even further. Arthur didn't know where to look. He realised his mouth was hanging open, and shut it with a snap. He also took his hand off his sword, and the other off his gun, at which the Companion smiled, and relaxed back against the cushions.

"Thank you," he said, and Arthur blinked.

The Companion was a _man_. What had Uthur been thinking? Had he even realised? Perhaps he had just automatically assumed that the Companion was female, before buying Arthur time with her. With him. Oh crap.

"My name is Merlin", said the Companion, "And you must be Arthur? It's good to meet you." Arthur swallowed. This was ridiculous.

Merlin was curled up in the sunken bowl-shaped lounging area in the centre of the room. It was entirely filled with cushions and rugs and furs, and he was – draped, the only word for it – right in the centre. He was wearing something, Arthur couldn't really see, something purple and translucent, that rippled and reflected the light every time Merlin even breathed. His long slim feet were bare, and the toenails were painted silver, but Arthur only noticed that in passing – his eyes were following hints of pale flesh that flashed and disappeared as Merlin leaned forward. His arms were bare, and as he held out his hand for Arthur to take, Arthur's gaze travelled along creamy skin up to an amused pair of kohl-rimmed eyes set in a luminous face, topped with tousled black hair. A grey pearl earring completed the effect.

In a daze, without even thinking about it, he took the hand Merlin held out to him, and was drawn down into the cushions. He thought he probably ought to protest in some way, ought to explain that there had been some mistake, that his father would never have arranged such a thing had he known…

"It's all right," said Merlin, lightly, "We can spend time together in whatever way you wish." He blinked at Arthur, and grinned. "I play a mean game of Go, if you'd like."

Arthur realised with a start that he hadn't released Merlin's hand. That he was still staring, and that Merlin hadn't looked away. That the pearl earring was trembling delicately in Merlin's – rather prominent, now he considered it – ear.

The thought that Merlin too might be nervous gave Arthur back his courage. "No, it's fine. We must make the best of it, I suppose. I mean…" Arthur could kick himself, he felt a complete prat, he hadn't meant to insult the man, even inadvertently.

There was a spurt of quick laughter instead, and Arthur found himself grinning back into smudged blue eyes that had lit up with glee at his clumsy implication.

"Would it help if I said I was newly graduated from the Guild?" said Merlin, "I have few expectations – and even less now. Although it's possible we could discover what we want from each other despite ourselves?"

Arthur snorted. "Of course I want to be practiced on by the worst Companion ever trained. Who wouldn't?"

Merlin's eyes crinkled even more, the overt insult seeming rather to give him energy, to amuse him more than any pretty words might, and Arthur felt dazzled by his smile. Merlin tugged lightly on their joined fingers, and Arthur knew he could resist. He could always let go, and they would laugh, and play Go, and drink tea, and there would be nothing more challenging or exciting than that. Somehow Arthur knew he was standing at a crossroads, but he also felt like he was falling, as though it was inevitable, fated. He searched and found nothing in him that even wanted to resist, as though the whole universe was glowing golden in Merlin's eyes, and he wanted to throw himself into it, as though he'd somehow been waiting for this moment all his life.

"You're right, of course, because the client is always right," Merlin whispered into his ear, as Arthur shivered, "But I find that… experimentation, has much to recommend it."

Arthur could smell exotic spice, a tinge of sweetness, a hint of musk - a heady cocktail that made him want to lick his lips. And then, adding to his dilemma, Merlin moved, a delicious ripple that brought him flush against Arthur's taut body. Arthur gasped, he couldn't help it, his senses all awash with overwhelming richness, the slight scratch of Merlin's jewellery, the silken slide of his shirt against Arthur's skin, the drugging heat of his breath next to his cheek.

"I've been told I should practice my knee-walking," said Merlin, "In particular. What do you think?"

Arthur felt too hot, his body flushed and heavy, as though he was holding himself taut in some endurance competition. He wasn't sure who was going to win. He wasn't sure he cared much about losing.

All he knew, when Merlin lifted his hand and placed it on Arthur's chest, where the laces of his shirt were parted, that the touch was electric enough that he couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried. He surged forward and captured Merlin's lips with his own, drinking in the small sounds he made, and then pushing inside, capturing his taste to add to all the other overwhelming sensations that now meant Merlin, would always remind him of Merlin.

When, a lot later, Merlin wrenched his mouth away, only to skim Arthur's throat with his tongue, to nibble and tease his way along his jaw, when Merlin took the time to murmur breathily, hesitantly, "Do you know? I think you are my destiny."

Arthur didn't actually reply, but if he had, if he'd felt capable – he would have observed that he wasn't at all surprised.


End file.
